


Social Miscalculations

by falsteloj



Category: Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Misunderstandings, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a 2009 smallfandomfest prompt ~ Luke/Clyde, Lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Miscalculations

“So that was a kiss?” Luke asked eagerly, keen to prove that he had learned from Clyde’s explanation. “And that means she liked me?”

“Yeah,” Clyde grinned, shifting to sit with his back against the bed so Luke couldn’t see his expression falter. So  _he_  couldn’t see the way Luke’s brow furrowed as he planned what to say next. It was… distracting.

“What should I do now?”

Clyde resisted the urge to sigh. “Did you get her number?” 

“Her phone number?”

“Yes,” Clyde sighed – there was no escaping it this time – and rolled his eyes, “her phone number.” Being friends with Luke was hard work.

Luke shook his head apologetically, “My telephone battery was dead.”

Clyde glanced up then and instantly wished he hadn’t. Luke had that wide-eyed look plastered across his face, the one that sometimes made him forget that Maria had seriously good legs hidden under those leggings. Luke must have been able to read at least something in his expression because he asked earnestly,

“Is that bad?”

“On a scale of one to ten,” Clyde blustered as Luke shifted closer, so that they were sat shoulder to shoulder, “that’s about eleven.”

“Oh.” Luke was silent for a moment. “But you said that practice makes perfect. How will I practice now?”

Clyde shook his head; Luke was definitely hard work. He shrugged, “Ask me another one, Luke.” Even Luke, with his ten thousand person brain, wouldn’t be able to come up with a solution to that problem.

Luke smiled though, all dimples, and Clyde knew he should be thinking he looked a right sap, not that it was kind of cute. And, then, before he had chance to stop him, Luke was leaning in and pressing their lips together, lingering one second, two, before pulling away and telling him happily, “We can practice together.”

‘That’s not how it works’ or ‘you need a girl’ or, even, ‘I don’t need any practice’. That’s what he _should_  have said. Got up and put some space between them. That’s what he  _should_  have done. 

Instead he sat there, silent, mirroring Luke’s earlier wide-eyed expression for long moments. Didn’t stop Luke as he leaned in again, didn’t even think about girls as he put one hand on the back of Luke’s head, anchoring him in place. 

By the time Luke broke away for the second time to ask, “Is that a good idea?” Clyde had already made a decision. So long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

* * *

Clyde was too afraid to bring it up again. Afraid of what it would mean – the taunts and the jeers and the look of disappointment in his mum’s eyes. Afraid Luke might have changed his mind. Just… afraid. Although he’d never admit to anyone. Ever.

And, so, it was three weeks later when they were sat in Sarah Jane’s living room, television blaring because, as he kept trying to explain to Luke, that’s what teenagers did. On screen the bad acting was reaching a climax, the square jawed, clean cut hero cupping the girl’s heavily powdered cheek. 

Luke’s hand fell onto his arm as they started kissing, his other gesturing at the TV set. “That’s what I want to practice next.”

He blinked at Luke once, incredulously, before his brain managed to process the slick flash of tongue on the screen, his treacherous body catching up on the action.

“I read about it on the internet.”

“Yeah?” Clyde gave Luke his best ‘you’re completely insane’ look. Luke just shifted closer and Clyde felt a surge of want and panic battle it out for dominance. “Your mum could walk in any minute,” he managed, “that would be  _so_  uncool.”

“Oh.” 

Clyde slumped back against the sofa, this time accosted by relief and disappointment. It was a short reprieve.

“Should we go to my bedroom instead then? Mum always knocks the door before coming into my bedroom.”

This, Clyde thought, with a hint of hysteria, was when he should put an end to the whole thing. Should chalk it all up to temporary insanity and move on. Luke’s hand, he realised, was still on his arm, his big trusting eyes watching his face carefully. 

They went to Luke’s bedroom.

* * *

The third time it happened they were in  _Clyde’s_  bedroom, Luke trying to explain why, really, algebra was very easy.

This time he had no excuse, no justification. One minute Luke was carefully pencilling out an equation, meeting his eyes to gauge his reaction, the next he had a hand pushed into Luke’s hair, their lips pressed tight together. Luke, to his credit, caught on quickly and dropped the pencil, bringing his own hands up to curl around the back of his neck and clutch at the fabric of his sweater. When they broke apart, Clyde stayed close to Luke, for once not caring about his reputation or the weirdness, or what his dad would think, wanting nothing more than to just snog Luke breathless all over again.

And, then, Luke ruined everything.

“Was that like a test?” He asked, cheeks still flushed, “Did I pass?”

“Yeah,” Clyde forced a smile, mortified at the way his voice sounded strained and croaky. He swallowed and tried again, “You have been learning from the master after all.”

Luke frowned at him then, as if he were a human shaped algebraic equation, before picking up his pencil and continuing his explanation as if there had been no interruption. Clyde was forced to admit that this –  _whatever it was_  – might be becoming a problem.

* * *

“I think I have made another social miscalculation.”

Clyde pulled a pained grimace, “Blunder, Luke. It’s called a blunder.”

“I think I made another social blunder,” Luke amended, looking at him intently.

“What have you done this time?” Clyde asked, refusing to let himself as much as think about how tempting Luke looked. About how he tasted and the soft noises he made when they kissed. About – it was a losing battle. Especially with the way Luke was taking his hand –

“Luke!” Clyde exclaimed, mouth out of synch with his brain. “What are you doing?” Hand holding was definitely for girls. Along with thoughts like 'Luke has nice hair', and 'I have nothing at all to wear'.

“I practiced with Maria. She said this is what I should do.”

“Practiced what!?”

Luke looked so genuine that he instantly regretted the harsh tone. It wasn’t Luke’s fault.

“How I should apologise,” Luke told him, as if it was obvious. “She said that just because you say one thing, it doesn’t mean you mean it. Like when mum said she didn’t want me to call her mum.” He paused. “It’s very confusing.”

Clyde latched on to the most pertinent part, “You’ve been talking about this with Maria!” This was it. His reputation was in tatters.

Luke was oblivious. 

“Yes.” He clasped Clyde’s hand between both of his own. “I don’t want to practice with you anymore.”

“Right, thanks, Luke." Clyde tried to extract his hand, fighting against all sorts of uncool urges. Crying was right at the top of the list.

“Not unless you want to too. I should have asked you first,” Luke met his gaze sheepishly. 

Clyde stared back dumbly, wishing he knew what was going on in Luke’s head. 

“Do you want to practice with me?” 

If he didn’t know any better, Clyde would have said Luke looked nervous. Aloud he said, in a voice not as confident as he would have liked, “Are you asking me to go out with you?”

Luke shook his head hastily, “We don’t have to do it outside. Maria said you might not want everyone to know.”

“That,” Clyde protested in frustration, “is not what I meant!” Luke sat watching him expectantly and Clyde felt a blush burning its way across his cheeks, “I meant, are you asking me to be your,” he couldn’t quite meet Luke’s eye, “boyfriend?”

A happy smile broke across Luke’s face, “Did I do it well? Was this romantic?”

“Luke,” Clyde held an arm out and put as much long-suffering resignation into his tone as he could, “Just come here.”

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


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